Fathers and Sons
by mockingjay341
Summary: David and Dylan have an unexpected heart to heart about their fathers. (Non-slash, h/c.)


**A/N: So I wrote this after watching Series 32 Episode 2 of Casualty, and I was super excited that the show was exploring David and Dylan's relationship! Then I saw Series 32 Episode 21, remembered this, and finished it off. I'm not a fan of slash between these two, but I love their friendship. Anyway, this is an idea I've had for a while, and my first Casualty fic; it was written ages ago but I thought it'd be a waste not to post it and see what happens. Reviews are welcome!**

...

David Hide knows better than anyone that there are such things as 'good days' and 'bad days'. He could see when someone else was having one or the other, and naturally he could predict which of the two his own day was going to be. The second David had arrived at work on the day of the incident, he'd known that it was going to be a bad day.

After finally catching him, David was dragging a runaway patient (a boy of fifteen who wouldn't listen to anything anyone told him) through the corridors of the hospital, looking for someone who might be able to help him out. Struggling to pull the unruly teenager without hurting his broken wrist, he'd passed a store cupboard, and luckily (or it had seemed lucky at the time) Dylan had been inside. "Ah, Dr Keogh." David grimaced as the boy he was manhandling swore at him in frustration.

"David." Dylan turned around, eyebrows shooting up as he saw the pair of them. "Need any help?" He asked dryly.

"Please." David nodded, just as the boy swung back his leg and kicked him in the shin. David instinctively let go, hissing in pain, and the teen took his chance, sprinting out of the store cupboard and slamming the door behind him. Dylan ran after him and, taking only a moment to recover, so did David; but as they reached the door, they realised the flaw in their plan. Rattling the door handle, Dylan's eyes widened.

"It's locked." He said tersely.

"Sorry?"

"We're locked in."

David blinked. "You left the key in the door." He said, more of a statement than a question.

" _You_ brought him in here in the first place, _you_ let him go!" Dylan shot back, trying the handle again.

"He kicked me!" David exclaimed, holding his hands up innocently.

"Grow up." Muttered Dylan. He began banging on the door. "Hello? Anyone there?" He shouted over the noise. "Hello?"

Unsure of how to help, David hung back, watching the doctor's actions. He was pacing the small width of the store cupboard, stopping every now and again to bang on the door and call out. David knew that it would only be a few minutes before someone came, either looking for them or needing something from the cupboard itself, so he wasn't too worried. But the longer he watched Dylan, the more he noticed how his breathing was noticeably faster than normal, and how he was shaking ever so slightly.

"Um, we're perfectly safe, Dr Keogh, you needn't worry-" He said instinctively, realising as he spoke exactly _who_ it was he was trying to comfort.

"Who said I was worried?" Dylan snapped.

"I just thought, given your, er, current behaviour, that you might be a bit... Scared?"

"Yes, well, David; I'm sorry but emotions aren't really your area of expertise, are they?" Dylan regretted saying it as soon as he saw David flinch - he knew it was both inaccurate and unfair to use his condition against him like that. David turned away quickly as Dylan stepped reluctantly away from the door. Tensely, David sat down against the back wall.

"Look, David, I didn't-"

"It's ok."

Dylan sighed and slowly sat down next to him. "I'm claustrophobic." He said. The look on the nurse's face would have, in any other situation, been funny. David was well aware that he rarely said the right thing, so he opted for his usual tactic of saying nothing at all. To his surprise, Dylan kept talking. "My father... I had some rather unpleasant experiences with small spaces as a child." He breathed shakily.

"Your... Father?"

"He... Um, he sometimes used to... Er, he used to drink. Quite a lot." Dylan eventually managed to finish the sentence, glancing around the cupboard distractedly. David, though trying not to show it, was beginning to panic; of all the people who he could have been trapped in a cupboard with, it _had_ to be someone claustrophobic. It had to be _Dylan_.

"Dr Keogh?" He tried to get the doctor's attention, but to no avail. "Dylan?" There was a kind of determination in his voice the next time he spoke; not in a harsh or impatient way, but in the way that showed his concern. "Dylan, listen - do... Do you want to talk about it? Or... Do you want to talk about something else? I can't have you sat there in silence stressing yourself out, ok?"

Dylan's eyes flicked over to David, and he gave him a withering look - so much so that for a moment, David thought that through pure annoyance alone, Dylan had forgotten their current predicament. But then he spoke, and his voice was thinner and quieter than normal. "Well, you know how I feel about small talk, David." He sighed.

David blinked, before realising that he hadn't thought this far - what sort of questions to ask a person about their clearly traumatic childhood? "How's Dervla?" He stammered, cringing as the words left his mouth.

"Oh for goodness' sake." Dylan stood up again and moved back over to the door, banging on it again. Nobody answered. David quietly got to his feet and approached the doctor; it was only when he spoke that Dylan seemed to come to his senses.

"My dad never liked me very much." David said. "It... My condition, my nervousness, my complete inability to socialise..." He chuckled almost nostalgically. "He'd get embarrassed at Parent's Evenings and such... Make excuses not to have to come, and get... Frustrated, sometimes..." He trailed off; Dylan had turned to face him and was wearing a strange look that was halfway between sympathy and annoyance. "I know it's not at all the same - but..." He looked away, found a spot on the opposite wall to focus his attention on.

"My father used to get drunk." Dylan said, as if to himself, making David jump. "A lot." He continued. "There was this cupboard, in the guest room - it was always empty, because we never had any guests - and sometimes he'd want me out of the way. My bedroom door didn't have a lock on it, but this cupboard did, so." He said that last word with a note of finality, even though, David thought, there should have been nothing final about it. There was plenty more that needed explaining; you couldn't start a story like that and then just... stop.

"But you-" David was cut off abruptly by a knock on the door behind them, making them both flinch.

"Hello?" It was Louise.

"Hello, Louise?" David knocked back. "Can you get us out of here, please? We had a little trouble with an unruly patient, he's got the key..."

"Since you asked so nicely. That boy with the broken wrist again?" David could hear her smile in her voice.

"Unfortunately." He nodded although she couldn't see him.

"I'll just go and get the spare key." She said. "Next time you're overpowered by a teenager, though, you're finding your own way out, got it?"

"Yes, yes, alright!" David muttered as he heard her walk away. He looked to Dylan, who seemed relieved but not happy by any means. "You okay?" He asked cautiously.

Dylan looked up, startled from his thoughts. "What? Yes. I'm fine." He shook his head lightly as if to clear it.

David raised an eyebrow, but the older man didn't seem to notice. "Good." He heard footsteps returning down the corridor, and then the click of the lock in the door. It swung open and Dylan set off past Louise and continued away from them both. "Thanks." David said to Louise distractedly.

"No worries." She too was watching Dylan, or at least the direction he'd disappeared off to. "You two have an argument or something?" She frowned.

"If only." David replied, so quiet he wasn't sure she heard him.

...

David didn't see Dylan again until he was retrieving his belongings from his locker at the end of the awful day, ready to go home and try to forget what had happened.

"David." The doctor said, and the man in question spun around to face him.

"Dr Keogh!" David tried to smile.

"What you said about your dad earlier, that was true?"

David's smile vanished. "Y-Yes..." He answered nervously. He shouldn't have been surprised; Dylan was never one for 'beating around the bush'.

Dylan seemed to ponder this information for a while before speaking again. "That was a strange way of comforting somebody, Nurse Hide." He said dismissively.

"Um... I suppose it was, yes." David didn't really know; he wasn't an expert on the subject. There was another long pause.

"He was very wrong - to be ashamed of you, like that." Dylan only managed to meet his eyes for a second before he pulled his coat on and started to leave. He'd just reached the door when he glanced back. "Thanks, David."

By the time David had recovered enough to form any kind of coherent sentence, Dylan was gone. He blinked at the spot where he had been, before snapping out of it and reaching for his own coat in his locker.

Maybe it hadn't been _such_ a bad day after all.

...


End file.
